It has not been very long now that I have owned dress shirts that I actually wear on a regular basis, and therefore take them to the cleaners rather than wash them myself. But I have a couple. And today I brought them to the cleaners down the street, where the old lady behind the counter knows me, despite the fact that I only bring in two shirts, and only every other week or so. But she had popped out for a moment– it was a bit after nine and I guess she’d taken a break after the pre-nine-am crowd had gone by. I went on by and dropped the shirts at the place near work, and now I feel horribly guilty for betraying her.
I’m such a freak.
Secretly Ironic 